


Come Home.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John Watson, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual John Watson, Don't ever smoke this bad., Established Relationship, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sherlock stop smoking!, Uni!lock, lots of smoking, mystrade, unsent texts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: John and Sherlock have been dating and living together all through the past two years of University. One night John goes out with friends and Sherlock stays home to study.Sherlock remembered going out for a walk to clear his mind and running into Victor Trevor. But the rest of night was a burr until he woke the next day at Mycroft's and John was no longer speaking to him.A story in which Sherlock makes a small bad decision that snowballs into John leaving.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59





	1. Sherlock's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вернуться домой (Come Home)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047097) by [Lesli_rus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesli_rus/pseuds/Lesli_rus)



> Hello and welcome to another angsty story by yours truly. I will let you know that I toned the angst down a lot as I had planned for this story to not have a happy ending. Be thankful that my heart screamed at me until I made the ending happy. I hope you all enjoy this story. It is only 2 chapters and both are finished. I will give a few days in between for suspense reasons because its how I roll. lol I would like to thank my beta Kat for reading over this story and cheerleading me through it. I started this story almost a year ago, but it got pushed to the side for other things. Thanks to Paia's WIP month I was able to get it finished. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock closed the book he had been reading, he couldn’t keep his mind on studying tonight. Frustrated, he shoved the book across his desk. _Why did his mind have to keep betraying him with thoughts of John’s blue eyes staring at him, filled with sadness and anger?_

He let out an annoyed growl before pulling the book back towards him. He needed to finish studying, it was already past 11 pm and he had nothing else to occupy his mind right now. 

His tea sat cold beside him. John always made tea for both of them when they would study. Sherlock’s mind was climbing the walls, he was barely able to sit still. He stood pacing the flat, every turn brought up memories of John. 

_John sitting in his red chair flying paper aeroplanes at Sherlock while he sat at the desk working._

_John singing in the shower at the top of his lungs, some terrible sappy love song._

_John snuggled against him on the couch watching crap telly, his hand combing through Sherlock’s hair, soft and gentle._

“Stop! Just stop!” He berated himself out loud. Crossing the flat to their (no just his) room, he tried not to think of the memories they had made in this room as he grabbed his cigarettes. 

Lighting one before he had even left the room, Sherlock found himself lying on the sofa staring at the patterns on the ceiling. As he lit a third cigarette, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. 

No new messages.

Not that he was expecting any. John had made it clear that he won’t call or text Sherlock and it had already been weeks of silence since things went south. 

He clicked on John’s name, his finger hovered over the call button before moving to send a message. 

**Unsent:**

I miss you SH

**Unsent:**

I’m sorry SH

**Unsent:**

Come home SH

**Unsent:**

Please talk to me SH

Closing his phone, Sherlock throws it on the coffee table before he makes the mistake of sending an unwanted message. He lit another cigarette, breathing the smoke deep in his lungs. John never liked him smoking in the flat or at all for that matter. He sucked another lung full of smoke in, letting slowly seep out and dance through the air. 

It was his own bloody fault that John was gone. _His own fault._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Five and a half weeks ago_ **

Sherlock entered their flat to the sound of John making tea in the kitchen. _Perfect._ He removed his coat and crossed the room to his chair. 

“Sherlock? Is that you?” John called out. 

“Obviously.” 

“No need to get snarky.” John laughed, making his way to the sitting room with two cups of tea. He set one next to Sherlock’s chair, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before moving to his own chair across from Sherlock. “So how was lab?” 

“Dull. Boring. I could have taught the class.” Sherlock griped, giving his tea a cooling blow before taking a sip. 

“You say that about every class,” John teased. “Look there is a group of us going out to the pub on Friday, why don’t you come this time?” 

“And lose IQ points just walking in the door? No thank you.” Sherlock shook his head, taking another sip of tea before setting his cup down. 

“Alright, geez, you don’t need to be rude about it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Present-day**

Sherlock left the flat, headed for a part of the university that he has been avoiding for the past two weeks. John’s new dorm. The cigarette between his fingers shook a bit as he took a drag while walking. He knew where John would be. Mike Stamford’s. He had found out that was where John went the night everything got ruined. _Damn him, for destroying the only good thing in his life._

He pulled his coat collar up around his ears, one hand was buried in a pocket, the other shaking each time it brought the cigarette to his lips. He soon found himself across the street from John’s new building, just waiting and watching. 

There was a party going on tonight. _Good_. He could safely stand out here and no one would notice. They were all too busy drinking. John was somewhere in that building drinking too and most likely telling someone how awful Sherlock was. Not that Sherlock could blame him, John deserved better. _Always had_. Now, maybe John had a chance to find it. 

Sherlock dropped his finished cigarette, crushing it with his boot before lighting another. At this rate, he would have to stop for more on his way home. He looked back across the street into the windows of Mike’s room where the party seemed to be localized. Everyone was laughing, it was loud even out here. 

Sherlock cursed under his breath. Wh _y did he come here? John had made it very clear he never wanted to see Sherlock again. Ever._ Yet here Sherlock was, standing out here like he had a right. He used to come here every night after it happened. Always hidden from sight until the pain overwhelmed him and he stopped coming altogether. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Five Weeks Earlier:**

It was a bad idea from the start. He knew it. John hated drugs and had asked Sherlock not to use them. The night John had gone to the pub with Mike Stamford, Sherlock had gone walking to clear his mind and ran into Victor Trevor. 

Sherlock normally didn’t spend time with Victor outside of labs but the boy seemed to attach himself to Sherlock that night. One thing led to another and Victor ended up back at the flat with him. After some time, Victor had brought out a small bag of weed, asking Sherlock if he wanted a hit. 

Sherlock knew it was a bad idea, but it always helped to slow the world down around him and he found himself joining Victor. 

Sherlock was soon lying on the rug in the lounge with Victor lying beside him. It had started with giggling over different things the lab teacher had done and what an idiot he was. Sherlock had felt like a normal kid in uni for a just moment until things changed. Victor had gone from easy going to demanding in the blink of an eye. 

This is how John found them. Drugs on the coffee table, both of them on the floor in their pants. Sherlock couldn’t remember why Victor was there, why they were in their pants and why he had taken the drugs. John was so upset, screaming at them and then he was just gone. 

Mycroft stood in his place, shaking his head at Sherlock. “You have done it this time, little brother.” 

When Sherlock’s mind had cleared, John wouldn’t see him or talk to him. The damage was done and it was his fault. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Which brought him to where he was tonight, wishing he could catch a glimpse of John through the window. 

“How many is that?” 

Sherlock jumped just as he was about to light another cigarette. _John!_ Turning to face the boy, Sherlock studied him. John looked beautiful as ever, wearing one of the jumpers that Sherlock had gotten him last Christmas. Sherlock finished lighting his cig and drew in a lung full of smoke before replying. “I’ve lost count.” 

John huffed, looking to his side. That is when Sherlock noticed the girl hanging on John’s arm. He immediately hated her with her blonde curly hair and the decidable fact that she was hanging on to John like she had a right to be there. As Sherlock brought the cigarette back to his lips, he hoped the shaking wasn’t noticeable to John, not that it mattered, he just didn’t want to fight. 

“John! Let’s go, we are missing the party.” The girl whined, tugging on John’s arm. 

John held Sherlock’s gaze for a long moment before allowing the girl to pull him away. Sherlock continued smoking, watching them until they reached the door of the dormitories, only then did John cast a glance back towards him. 

Sherlock could feel what was left of his heart breaking all over again at the look John had sent him before stepping into the building. At the same time the door closed, a black car pulled up in front of him. 

He finished his cigarette as the back window lowered revealing his brother. “Mycroft.”

“You shouldn’t do this to yourself, brother mine.” Mycroft opened the door, sliding across the seat. “Get in the car, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock threw another look over the car at the dorm rooms, then slid next to Mycroft. “What do you want, Mycroft?” he chose not to look at his brother, instead he rested his head against the window, his eyes closing on their own. 

Visions of John’s eyes were the first thing his mind brought forth. Dark blue and sad. _So sad. His fault they were so sad._

“Brother, I worry about you. This is not healthy or a wise thing to do. John is hurt and angry right now.” 

“And you think I don’t know that!” Sherlock flings his hands in the air, his eyes open and watching Mycroft now. “You don’t think that’s all I think about. About how I did this all to myself! No one but myself to blame… I ruined the best thing in my life, for what?” exhausted Sherlock dropped his head back against the window with a thud. “Take me home, please.” 

“No, you will come home with me,” Mycroft replied softly. 

“Worried it's a danger night?” Sherlock huffed. “Do you really think I would touch anything like that again when it's the reason I lost him?” 

Mycroft gave him a look that said he lost John for more than just that. “Either way, you will come home with me, brother.” 

“Fine but you and Gavin better not bother me,” Sherlock huffed.

“Of course not. Greg and I will leave you to yourself as long as you behave.” Mycroft adjusted his cuffs as they drove on. “And it wasn’t all your fault.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A while later, Sherlock lay on the bed in Mycroft’s guest room staring at his phone. He slowly flipped through the photos of John, he had saved. One of his favourites was a photo of John that Sherlock had taken when John hadn’t expected it. John’s eyes were bluer than normal in the photo with the look of love and surprise on his face.

  
Sherlock wished he could go back to this point. Back to when they were still together. He felt his eyes start to prickle with tears as he moved past the photo. His chest ached. Sherlock turned his phone off, setting it on the table next to the bed. 

He rolled on the bed, curling up, still fully dressed, he had not bothered with changing. Closing his eyes, Sherlock tried to drift off, feeling almost blank inside. 

He woke to a light knock at the door before Greg poked his head around. “Hey, Uhm, don’t mean to disturb you but is your phone off or are you ignoring him?” 

Sherlock lifted his head. “Yes, it’s off.” he nodded to the table. “Who?” 

“Uhm, John wrote me, he is a bit drunk and wanted me to check on you after he saw you earlier..” 

Sherlock sat up. “He--asked about me?” He felt his hands start to shake as he reached for his phone. 

“Yea, mate. You know he still cares right?” Greg looked down at the floor for a moment. 

"Thanks for saying that,” Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, picking up his phone turning it back on. “But John has shown how he feels about me.” 

“That was in the heat of anger, Sherlock. John was devastated.” Greg shrugged. “I will leave you to it. If you need someone, Mycroft and I are just down in the lounge.” 

Sherlock gave Greg a nod, afraid that if he spoke the tears might slip-free. In truth, Greg and Mycroft had really helped him through this, more than he would like to admit. They had cleaned him up then took him to the hospital when it was found that he had more than weed in his system.. He had stayed with them his first week back, before returning to the flat. 

As his phone turned on, he found 6 missed texts and 1 missed call. 

**Received:**

Why did you come here tonight?

**Received:**

What did you want?

**Received:**

Answer me!

**Received:**

I am calling you.

**Received:**

You know what nevermind. Forget I even said anything.

**Received:**

I don’t know why I reached out. 

Sherlock’s hands were shaking as he read the messages. John had reached out to him and he had missed it, all because he had fallen asleep. He thought for exactly 10 seconds on whether to write John back or not. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his shaking hands, Sherlock started writing. 

**Unsent:**

I am so sorry. I fell asleep and turned my phone off. 

Please, talk to me. I was there because I missed you. 

I don’t know how to move forward. I need you, John. SH 

**Unsent:**

You’re my best friend. Please come home. I love you. SH

**Sent:**

I apologize my phone was off. SH

**Sent:**

I didn't mean to intrude on your evening, I was out for a walk. SH

Sherlock looked at the messages he had sent. They were lies. But he couldn't send what he was really doing there or what he really wanted. John wouldn’t want that. 

…

…

Sherlock watched the 3 dots appear and disappear twice. _What was John writing, but not sending? How mad was he?_

**Sent:**

I said I was sorry, John. What more do you want from me? SH

Finally, a new message arrived from John.

**Received:**

Nevermind, just leave me alone. 

**Received:**

No, you know what go FUCK YOURSELF!

**Received:**

You broke my heart! You threw my love back in my face! 

I hope you are happy with him. I thought you 

cared about me. But I guess I was wrong. 

_Him? What him was Sherlock supposed to be happy with? John couldn’t mean Victor, could he?_ Sherlock felt his insides drop. _Could John really think Sherlock was with Victor?_ Sherlock hadn’t even seen Victor since the first night he had returned to his and John’s flat... Victor had stopped him to talk and then tried to kiss Sherlock. Sherlock had resorted to shoving and almost hitting Victor when he wouldn’t stop.

Victor was part of the reason John wasn’t talking to him anymore. He wasn’t going to damage that more by having anything to do with the man. _But why would John think he was with Victor right now?_ Sherlock decided to ask.

**Sent:**

John, I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that. 

I am not with anyone and I do care about you. 

You have always given me a quiet mind and I love you.

Sherlock stared at the phone after he pressed send. His heart was in his throat and his palms sweating as they gripped the phone. He willed John to respond, to give him a chance to fix this. 

**Received:**

You don’t love me.

If you had you wouldn’t have done this to me. 

Sherlock dropped his phone on the bed. His heart sunk. John was right if Sherlock truly loved John he would never have agreed to join Victor that night. It wasn’t his fault that Victor had slipped other drugs into Sherlock’s drinks, but it may as well have been. It was his fault Victor was even there in the first place. 

Sherlock had basically thrown John’s love back in his face. Saying that getting high with that lowlife was better than joining John out with his friends. Sherlock didn’t deserve John at all. 

John was better off without Sherlock and would be happier with anyone else in the world. Sherlock picked up his phone again, sending one last text before shutting the phone off and throwing it across the room. 

**Sent:**

I am sorry, John. You are right. 

You always have been. You deserve the world.

I hope you find the happiness you deserve. 

I won’t disrupt your life again.

Goodbye. SH

Tears streamed from his eyes as sobs wracked his body. Throwing himself from the bed, Sherlock made his way to the ensuite. Slamming the door shut, he rifled through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. 

“Sherlock! Sherlock! Open this door!” Mycroft screamed.


	2. John's POV

**Chapter 2 John’s POV**

**Received:**

I am sorry, John. You are right. 

You always have been. You deserve the world.

I hope you find the happiness you deserve. 

Goodbye. 

  
  


_ Goodbye? What the fuck did that mean?  _

“God damn it!” John sat up from the chair, he was currently sprawled across, throwing his glass on the floor breaking it. 

The curse and shattering of glass brought Mike from his room. “You okay, John?” Mike asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, before putting on his glasses. “What time is it?” 

“Going on four,” John nodded towards the clock. “Sorry to wake you.” John was still staring at the phone his hands were trying their best to crush. “You can go back to bed, Mike. Sorry.” 

Mike paused before turning and walking back to his room. “Yea, alright. Night, John.” 

John slumped back in the chair. “Night.” He dropped his head into his hands.  _ What was he going to do about Sherlock?  _ He missed the man more than anything. But his tattered heart was afraid to trust again. 

That night when he had come home to the flat and found Sherlock naked and high with Victor fucking Trevor, John had lost it. He had punched the smug look on Victor’s face, breaking his nose. He may have done more if Mycroft hadn’t shown up and stopped him. He had only seen red that night. 

His mind on a single track to destroy the human embodiment of what was ruining him and Sherlock. Trevor was that embodiment. He represented everything that John was not. Rich, posh, tall, slender. He was equal to Sherlock in every way that John was the opposite. 

John wanted to wrap his hands around Victor’s neck and wipe that arrogant smirk away. 

  
  


**That night Five weeks earlier:**

John walked up to their door after heading home early from his night out with Stamford. He was looking forward to spending some time with Sherlock instead. He had hoped his boyfriend would have come out with him tonight, but Sherlock had insisted he had to study, so John had left him to it.

Now he was home and from the sounds coming through their door, Sherlock wasn’t alone.

John opened the door to find Sherlock in the middle of their lounge on the floor in his only pants with Victor Trevor all over him. 

“What the bloody hell?!” John shouted, watching as the boys’ broke apart. Victor merely sat up smiling, while Sherlock crawled backwards until he hit the side of John’s chair, pulling his knees up. 

John could only stare at him. There on Sherlock’s neck, blazing and taunting John, was a hickey. The fight left him and he sunk to his knees in front of Sherlock, his heart broken. 

“How could you do this to me?” He whispered, his eyes filling with tears. Sherlock only stared back with a look of shock on his face. Like he couldn’t believe John was here and had caught them. 

Sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, Sherlock seemed to be rocking in place. From the corner of his eye, John watched as Trevor stood and began to dress. 

“Don’t you think you are overreacting a bit, John?” Victor’s face twisted in a smug smile. “I guess I will leave as it seems you are bent on ruining this good time we were having.” 

John clenched his hands into fists at his sides, letting out a growl. He was up and on Victor before the man had a second to react. His fist connected with Victor’s nose, sending blood flying through the air. John was seeing red, pouring all of his anger and heartbreak into his punch. 

Victor fell to the floor, holding his nose, screaming curses at John. John moved in to hit him again when a hand grabbed his arm. Swinging around he came face to face with Mycroft. 

“He is not worth it, John,” Mycroft spoke to John as though he was trying to gentle a wild animal. “I will take care of this.” He nodded towards Victor. 

John turned back to Sherlock, finding that he had not moved, his eyes blown wide open and frantic.

“Sherlock?” John moved towards him only to have him panic and try to move away. 

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want you here, John” Victor taunted. 

“You will watch yourself, Mr Trevor.” Mycroft intervened, stepping between him and John. 

  
  


‘Sherlock?” John questioned again, only to have Sherlock stumble to his feet and run out of the room, slamming the bedroom door. 

Victor’s laughter sent John over the edge and he fled the building, rather than hit the man again. After hours of walking the streets through tear-filled eyes, John found himself at Mike’s dorm, unwilling to go back to his and Sherlock’s flat. 

He had never felt so blank before, curling up on Mike’s couch after waking the poor man in the dead of night, John tried to decide what he was going to do next. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Present-day:**

John stared at his phone, the worry growing. _ Sherlock won’t do anything stupid, would he? No, no he wouldn’t.  _

When he had called Greg earlier, Greg had said that Sherlock was with them. _ Surely, Greg and Mycroft were watching out for him? Right?? _

What was he thinking, Sherlock, didn’t need him anymore. He had Mycroft and Greg at the very least and now Victor to take care of him. John was not needed… He needed to remember that.

_ But then why had Sherlock said he wasn’t seeing anyone?? Maybe he should try calling again, just to make sure Sherlock was okay…  _

John tried three times, each time it went straight to voicemail. Neither Greg or Mycroft were answering their phones either. John was up and out the door before he knew it. He was lucky to catch a cab at this hour, checking his phone to see it was going on half-past four. 

As he rode in the cab to Mycroft’s, John thought about the last time he had seen Sherlock before tonight that is. 

It had been a week after that night he had caught Sherlock and Victor together in their flat. He had stayed at Mike’s the whole time, not getting off the sofa most days.

John finally decided to return to the flat, thinking maybe they would talk and things would be okay. As he rounded the corner to Baker Street, he found Sherlock standing outside their door kissing Victor. John had quickly ducked back around the corner, running all the back to Mike’s. 

He had felt so stupid and foolish. Of course, Sherlock was still seeing Victor, they were perfect together. Since then John had made sure to avoid Sherlock at all costs. He moved a few things that he needed from the flat when Sherlock wasn’t home. He left the rest with a note telling Sherlock to do what he wanted with it. 

John had wanted nothing that would remind him of their time together. Though part of him said he left things behind because he would be back and John wanted more than anything to be back in that cosy flat with Sherlock. 

As the cab arrived at Mycroft’s flat, John tried to justify that he was just there as a friend to check on a friend, nothing more. Sliding out and paying the cabbie quickly, John walked up to the door and knocked. 

After a moment or two, he tried again. Finally, the door opened to reveal Greg looking like he hadn’t slept at all. 

“Oh hey, John, what brings you here?” 

“Sorry if I woke you. I know it’s really late but Sherlock has me worried and no one answered their phone or texts.” John tried to keep the panic from his voice. 

Greg looked behind him for a second before stepping back. “Why don’t you come in, John.”

John stepped through the door and around Greg. “Is he okay? Just tell me. Please?”

“Good morning, John,” Mycroft greeted him from the entrance to the lounge. “He is upstairs, second door on the left.” 

John looked between Greg and Mycroft. Greg looked down before meeting John’s eyes causing John to let out a small growl before climbing the steps.  _ What had Sherlock done? _

“John?” Mycroft called out. “Just remember that he loves you.” 

John paused, staring down at Mycroft, who just shrugged, pulling Greg into his arms. John watched as Mycroft placed a kiss at his husband’s temple as they moved into the next room. His chest ached at the sight, all John wanted was to be with the person he loved as well. 

John looked up the stairs to where that person was waiting whether he wanted John here or not. It was now time for them to talk. John needed to know where he stood even if that meant Sherlock stood with Victor. John needed closure, a decision made either way. 

Reaching the door, John took a deep breath before knocking, his heart racing in his chest. 

“Sherlock?” He heard a scuffle as he pushed through the door. On the other side, sitting on the window bench was Sherlock. His hair was dishevelled where a hand was gripping the curls. He had a cigarette between two fingers, posed an inch from his lips and his eyes were wide at the sight of John. Even from across the room, John could see Sherlock’s eyes were red and puffy from crying. 

“John?” Sherlock’s voice cracks as his hand fell, the cigarette nearly leaving his fingers. 

“If you burn a hole in Mycroft’s rug he will never forgive you,” John tried to lighten the tension in the air around them. Sherlock flinched at the words  _ never forgive you,  _ making John regret them instantly _.  _ Sherlock righted himself, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to draw in a lung full as he stared at John. 

“Well...seems to be a bit of a trend,” Sherlock offered with a shrug of his shoulders, looking out the window into the darkness. 

John shifted his weight between feet unsure of how to proceed. He had run over here in the dead of night, worried that Sherlock had done something rash only to find the man smoking and acting as though nothing was wrong. John could feel his anger rising, he was a fool for thinking Sherlock needed him. He could see that Sherlock had been upset but obviously he didn’t want John around. 

“I can hear you thinking from here, John. It’s painful. Out with it.” Sherlock spoke as he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Oh so sorry I was thinking,” John snapped. “Sorry, I just crossed town at the ass crack of dawn because I worried about you. Sorry I still care! Sorry if that makes me a predictable idiot!” John threw his hands in the air. 

Sherlock was off the seat and across the room before John could blink. His hands came to rest on either side of John’s face as he stared at him. “What did you say?”

John didn’t move, just staring back. “You heard me,” 

“Say it again,” Sherlock’s eyes scanned his face. At this distance, John could see the red rims around Sherlock’s eyes as well as the unshed tears that seemed ready to fall on a moment's notice. 

“I still care? Sorry, if that makes me an idiot?” John tried. The fight had left his body altogether. Having Sherlock this close with his hands on John’s face was making John’s heart flutter. As much as he wanted to be mad at Sherlock, he also wanted to just put everything behind them and kiss the man. 

“John, I....” Sherlock leaned closer, his lips slightly parted.

John tilted his head, licking his lips a bit as he did. “Yes?” he asked softly. 

Sherlock closed the distance between them, their lips meeting. John let a sigh slip as they pressed together, the kisses growing more heated. John’s brain completely shut down, just feeling Sherlock’s lips on his. 

Sherlock kept whispering over and over again “I am sorry,” against John’s lips between kisses. John could only cling to the man as he felt tears slid from his eyes, wrapping his arms around Sherlock, he pulled him closer.

“John,” Sherlock breathed his name against John’s cheek as he pulled back. 

“Sherlock, can I-- can I ask you something?” John tried to keep the shaking from his voice. There were things they needed to clear up between them. 

Sherlock took a step back to look John in the eye. “Of course.” 

“Can we sit?” John removed his arms from Sherlock, taking a seat on the end of Sherlock’s bed. 

Sherlock followed, sitting beside him. John reached out to hold one of Sherlock’s hands. “Can I ask what all happened? Why Trevor? Why back away from me, breaking my heart? Why--” His voice cracked. He looked down at their clasped hands. “Trevor told me after that night, that you had always wanted him and I had just been a placeholder.” 

“JOHN!” Sherlock jumped up to face him. 

John held up his hand, asking for just a moment. “No, let me get this out now or I won’t be able to. Whether he was correct or not, it made me think about how far out of my league you are and that you deserve the world.” John didn't look up the whole time. He knew if he looked up and saw Sherlock agreeing with any of this, he would never recover. 

“John? John, may I have a say in this?” Sherlock asked softly, his right hand lifting John’s chin so their eyes could meet. All John could do was nod. He didn’t trust his voice at this point. 

“John, I have never and will never want anyone as much as I want you.” 

John let out a sob before reaching out to grab onto Sherlock’s waist, pulling him close enough so he could bury his face in Sherlock’s shirt. “You mean that?” He whispered. 

“Of course, I do. That night…” Sherlock took a deep breath. “That night I will regret forever. I never meant to hurt you, John. I didn’t know until 2 days later that Victor had spiked my drink with Ketamine.” 

“That bloody arsehole!” John stood quickly in anger. He would tear Trevor apart for this. 

“John. John!” Sherlock broke thru John’s rage. “It's over. It’s my own fault for not paying attention.” 

“It’s not your fault, Sherlock! Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you let me blame you and think that you chose Trevor over me?!” John was pacing now. He was angry at himself and at Victor Trevor. He wanted to find the man and thrash him for taking advantage of Sherlock. For ruining everything between them. 

_ What if he had stayed out with Mike and had not come home early that night? What would have happened?  _

“John? John!” Sherlock stood in front of his pacing trail, grabbing him by the shoulders. “It’s over John. Mycroft took care of Victor.” 

John stopped pacing and threw his arms around Sherlock, holding him tightly. “Thank god for Mycroft. What did he do?” 

Sherlock huffed a laugh against John’s shirt. “I wouldn’t go as far as thanking a deity for Mycroft, but he was a good brother in this instance. I didn’t ask what he did, I just know that Victor will not come near us again.” 

“That’s good to know,” John sighed, still holding Sherlock tightly. The late hour and the fact he had not slept in almost 24 hours was catching up to him. 

“John?” Sherlock whispered against his shoulder. “Will you lay down with me?” 

“Yes,” John felt his eyes were half-closed already as they moved together towards the bed. Laying down, they stayed wrapped together, snuggled close neither letting go of the other. 

“I am sorry I didn’t stay that night,” John whispered into Sherlock’s chest. 

“I was in no place to help you understand what happened right then and I didn’t even have the whole story,” Sherlock whispered back. “Mycroft explained everything to me days later. At that point you were already so mad at me, I didn’t know how to fix it.” 

“I’m sorry…” John tried to snuggle closer to Sherlock. “If I had--” 

Sherlock shushed him. “John, we both share blame in what happened, maybe not as much as Victor, but we are in this together.”

John struggled to keep awake. “I love you, Sherlock. I never stopped.” 

“I know, and I love you too, John Watson.” Sherlock kissed his forehead as they drifted off, tangled up together. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. As always you can visit me on Twitter @octoberisblue


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